


It’s Getting Hot Out Here

by IronMum



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Broken Bones, Delirium, Desert, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Plane Crash, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Stranded, Sunburn, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, You have to let me go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronMum/pseuds/IronMum
Summary: Febuwhump Day 28: "You have to let me go"If you would’ve asked Tony Stark how he thought his day was going to go, he probably would’ve told you it was going to be the same old shit, just a different day. If you would’ve asked Peter Parker how he thought his day was going to go, he probably would’ve told you it was going to be the same shizz, just a different day. The pair had been tasked with what should have been a fairly routine mission. There was an emphasis on should have, as before they’d arrived at their destination, the sirens of the quinjet were roaring and the aircraft was going down. The apparent barren desert that they were flying over either housed a unit who was expecting them or Parker luck was just striking once again. The attack had been swift and brutal, indicating they knew exactly where they needed to hit. The day was going to be an absolute disaster.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	It’s Getting Hot Out Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kevy_Grayce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kevy_Grayce/gifts).



If you would’ve asked Tony Stark how he thought his day was going to go, he probably would’ve told you it was going to be the same old shit, just a different day. If you would’ve asked Peter Parker how he thought his day was going to go, he probably would’ve told you it was going to be the same shizz, just a different day. The pair had been tasked with what should have been a fairly routine mission. There was an emphasis on should have, as before they’d arrived at their destination, the sirens of the quinjet were roaring and the aircraft was going down. The apparent barren desert that they were flying over either housed a unit who was expecting them or Parker luck was just striking once again. The attack had been swift and brutal, indicating they knew exactly where they needed to hit. The day was going to be an absolute disaster.

When Peter opened his eyes, it was to complete darkness. He raised a sluggish hand to his face, groaning as he tried to grab his mask and remove it. His fingers were clumsy in their motions, making it feel like an eternity before he finally was able to yank it off. The young hero instantaneously regretted the decision as all of his senses were assaulted at once. The harsh sunlight had caused him to recoil as he slammed his eyes shut and placed a hand over them for extra shade. The suffocating smell of smoke and burning was so thick he could feel bile rise in his throat. The crackling of the fire and whining of metal falling apart were enough to intensify the headache he already had. The temperature of the air was hot and smothering, leaving him lightheaded and dizzy.

The teen wasn't sure how long it took, but he tediously began the process of prying his eyes open and adjusting to the incredibly bright surroundings. It had become apparent he had been lying face down in sand, so with the mask removed he was keeping his head ever so slightly elevated; it made his already stiff neck ache more. He precariously used the hand shielding his eyes and holding onto his mask as a rest for his forehead but would often have to shimmy, as the hand sunk into the terrain under too much pressure.

In an effort to manoeuvre into a push up position before attempting to sit up, Peter tried to lift his other arm up towards his face. The intense, searing pain the movement caused had him rolling onto his back far quicker than he'd planned, his instinct to grab ahold of the injured forearm and place it across his chest. His body violently trembled at the movement, causing the full-body soreness he already felt to escalate. He managed a brief look down and could quickly see that his wrist was deformed through the suit. With a deep, shaky breath he heaved himself upright without the use of either arm. As if things could get any worse, Peter finally got a good look at his surroundings. He was in a desert, surrounded by the wreckage of the quinjet. _Oh fu-_

Vivid flashbacks swarmed his view and his breath hitched at what had happened and who he had been with. As if on cue he heard a groan, laced with a mixture of pain and annoyance. Clenching his jaw, Peter tried to stand up but a pain far worse than his wrist had his sight exploding with stars. He didn't even recognise the piercing scream of anguish had come from himself until his composure minimally returned. The only foreseeable way he could see himself reaching his mentor was to flop onto his side and use his good arm to just drag his body. Each movement felt like his muscles were being ripped to shreds, causing him to all but collapse when he reached his mentor's side.

"Mr. Stark?" he said, his chest moving sharply as he panted. "Mr. Stark, are you with me?"

"What the hell happened?" Tony grumbled groggily as he removed the faceplate from his armour, quickly narrowing his eyes at the harsh brightness. He let out a grunt as he sat himself up and looked around at the wreckage before his eyes met Peter lying on the ground next to him.

"Shit, kid, are you alright?" he asked as he eyed the teen up and down, suddenly feeling very awake. The Stark Suit had been torn in areas and charred in others. There were patches of exposed skin that were visibly bruised and cut. One of his legs looked abnormally swollen and the wrist that lay across his chest was bent at a horrendous angle. There were darkening circles round each eye, both areas showing signs of swelling as well as the kid's nose.

"Hey, Spiderling. Open your eyes for me. You with me?" Tony didn't want to panic and he didn't want to ramble, but it was probably one of the most unnerving sights of his life—and that was saying something. He pushed the centre of his suit and, with a shuddering crunch, it slowly released from him. Once free, he pressed two fingers into Peter's neck, sighing in relief when the action elicited a whine. The teen squeezed his eyes further shut before allowing them to flutter open, the sight of his mentor leaning over him welcoming.

"You okay?" Peter queried when he saw the streak of blood dripping down the side of Tony's face.

"Bit stiff. My suit probably took the brunt of the damage though," Tony concluded. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Feel like I fell out of a plane." Peter went to sit up but immediately flopped back, his mentor's eyes widening.

"Okay. Okay. Let's take this easy," Tony offered, lightly placing his hands onto Peter's shoulders. "How about you give me a lowdown of everything that hurts and then we see about moving you?"

"Everything," Peter replied, which was exactly what Tony was expecting to hear. The pair both let out a nervous chuckle. 

"Can you focus on any pains in particular? Anything feeling really sharp? Or really numb? Anything sticking out to you? Metaphorically and literally."

The truth was it was hard to pinpoint a specific pain when the teen's whole body felt like it was on fire. Without thinking he raised his good arm and placed the palm of his hand over one of Tony's that had remained on his upper chest. For just a moment, he simply took in the comfort the physical contact was providing. 

"My wrist and forearm are… excruciating. And my shoulder." 

He vaguely remembered trying to hold onto both his mentor and the ship when a breach in the quinjet almost sucked his mentor out before he'd even had a chance to suit up. He'd remembered feeling like his muscles were shredding. Before he'd secured the older man there'd been at least one alarming _pop_.

"I'm no doctor but I'm pretty sure the wrist is dislocated judging by the direction it's facing and-"

"Can you... realign it?" Peter asked desperately, noting the conflict evident in Tony's eyes. 

"O-Okay," Tony relented, knowing they potentially didn't have much time. "Anything else on that pain level? Your left leg isn't looking too happy."

"Hurts," Peter reiterated along with a strained hum. 

"Alright kiddo," Tony murmured as he eyed up the wrist. "Let's get this done and over with."

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes firmly shut as Tony’s hand prepared to attempt the reduction. It hadn’t taken a lot of manoeuvring at all before the hand suddenly jolted into place, but that hadn’t stopped Peter’s back arching as he writhed in agony. His mentor would never forget the hoarse scream and streaming of tears he had inflicted.

Tentatively, Tony mustered the courage to thread his hand through Peter’s hair. He’d expected the kid to pull away after what he’d just done but as the crying dissolved into just short sniffles, Peter leaned into the touch. 

"I’m going to go and look around the wreckage for any supplies and then I think we need to move out. I know we’re supposed to stay near the crash sight or vehicle, but it’s very likely that the people who shot us down are also going to be making their way over here. Keep that arm on your chest and I’ll be right back."

The teen simply nodded, not wanting to be left alone but knowing he wouldn’t be able to help. In fact, he was likely going to be a massive burden. The couple of minutes Tony spent grabbing supplies felt like an eternity for Peter. And in that time, he had deduced that he needed to ask Tony to leave him behind. It was the logical solution. Peter could even slow the bad guys down.

"Mr. Stark?" he said softly. "You should go on without me, you cou-"

"Absolutely not. _Never._ Not on my life. _Ever_ ," Tony replied so quickly and succinctly he almost sounded offended. "There will not be a moment in my lifetime where you are left behind."

The pair fell silent after that, Peter chancing a glance to his side at what Tony was doing. Unsure how he’d moved so fast unless he'd passed out and not noticed, Tony seemed to have converted a part of the smashed quinjet into a small sledge. Peter spotted a medikit and what seemed to be a parachute within the gathered items. Tony seemed to now be swiftly removing parts of his dead weight Iron Man suit.

Despite the previous warning, the teen managed to lift his upper body up to get into a seated position, looking down at the leg Tony had mentioned earlier. 

"It’s going to suck, but I think I’m going to need to stabilise that, Underoos," Tony admitted, turning around and holding a part of his suit’s leg. "Once I've stabilised it, we’ll make you a sling from some of this material for that arm of yours and then you can board the Stark Express here."

"Yeah, that does sound like it’s going to suck," Peter attempted to joke back. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Tony found himself wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead after stabilising his mentee’s arm and leg. His clothes felt uncomfortably slick as they stuck to his skin, despite their breathability. In one swift motion he’d gotten Peter onto the makeshift sledge and, using the cords from parachutes, had started to leave the crash sight. He wondered what the horrendous odds were to be stuck in a desert twice in a lifetime.

In order to keep Peter’s head protected, they’d pulled his mask partially on. If his face did require further coverage, they’d managed to pry the lenses open so it was ready to be used. Tony had removed his shirt and wrapped it around his head, his arms quickly feeling the molten heat of the sun as his vest offered minimal protection. He tried to keep his pace steady in an attempt to not physically exhaust himself. Mentally he had already depleted almost all his resources as his brain debated whether this was his new worst nightmare.

The desolate sandy landscape looked never-ending to Tony as his feet started to drag. Walking through the heat and carrying a load had proved so strenuous on his body that he was having to take more and more breaks. His fingers had swollen sometime ago, making the handling of the straps to his creation all the more difficult. His ankles had given way several times, draining more energy as he tried to balance himself. He needed a vacation after this. _No._ It was time to check on his mentee.

Each step back to the sledge became agonising as his muscles tensed and cramped. He remembered this feeling. Remembered this was nearing his complete breaking point. But that also meant that Rhodey could show up at any moment. He looked to the skies, willed his ears to hear anything but the beating of his heart. But for now there was nothing. 

He ungracefully flopped to the ground beside his contraption. Peter had fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure when. He’d initially done his best to rehydrate the boy but eventually his frazzled mind couldn’t keep up with rough timings of when to continue it. Peter’s skin looked excruciatingly sunburnt, his nose a particularly dark shade of red.

Tony had wanted to talk to the kid, even if he knew he wasn’t going to get a reply. The older man just needed to hear the sound of something, even if it was himself. He realised that despite the incessant rambles of the teen, there was so much left that had gone unspoken. He'd been cryptic in his hints and messages about how much he cared for the teen, not quite admitting the lengths he had gone to to protect him. Pepper had called it, _"acting like a doting father"_ and had even gone as far to say it _"suited him_ ”. Tony had snorted at the compliment at the time. He hoped Peter had worked out that he cared for him. Wanted to protect him at all costs. Loved him unconditionally. 

Not wanting to dwell on his potential failings, he grabbed one of the bottles of water he'd managed to salvage and took a swig before dropping small amounts into Peter's mouth. The comfort he felt when the kid instinctively swallowed was a feeling like no other, until the last gulp.

"You have to let me go," the kid rambled hoarsely in his sleep.

"Never, ever, buddy." Tony replied tenderly, placing a hand on Peter's arm and giving it a squeeze. Eventually, he staggered to his feet before following the chords and then resuming the trek across the sand.

It was an unknown amount of time when Tony weakly flopped to the ground, head pounding with such intensity his vision was blurring. This was it. He was done for. This limbo of a nightmare was going to end soon. The older man was about to call it quits when something told him to look up. He tilted his head in confusion. Just a few feet in front of him was what looked like the glimmer of a small water source. Irritated by a heaviness strapped around his arms, Tony clumsily shook his arms side to side until he was free. 

He stumbled the short distance to the rippling waters and immediately sunk his hands in, so mesmerised by the heat induced illusion he didn’t recognise the coarse feeling of the sand falling between his fingers. It hit when he pressed his hands into his face. Water wouldn't itch and irritate his sore chapped lips. It should've soothed them. There were no tears left to fall, his throat too raw to produce any kind of sound. In silent misery, he simply had to accept that this really was it. 

Peter wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious. His heat-addled mind tried to process where he was and what he was doing. He subconsciously licked his dry lips, his throat feeling parched beyond belief. When he sat up he slowly began to recognise the sledge he was in, the supplies that were stacked by his feet. And then it hit him that he wasn’t moving. The teen looked up to see the straps from the _Stark Express_ on the ground and a mound of dark clothing lying face down in the sand not much further ahead. He grabbed a hold of the water bottle by his side and stood as quickly as he could. The pain seemed far more bearable now that his healing factor had kicked in from the nap.

With an impressive limp, he half dragged the armoured leg along until he was beside Tony. He quickly rolled his mentor onto his back, noting how dry the clothes felt from the fast evaporation of the blazing sun. He checked his breathing, concerned at how shallow it was. He shuffled his good leg so that Tony’s head could rest on it and then poured small and careful amounts of water into his mouth. The eventual hum of appreciation was just what his heavy chest had needed to hear. When he’d spared as much as he could, he made his way back to the sledge and then painstakingly pulled it over to his mentor. 

"Looks like it's my turn, Mr. Stark," he whispered. Swallowing harshly, he wiggled the fingers of the arm that had been most injured. It throbbed but he determined he would be okay to attempt the quick transfer of Tony from the sand. His mentor’s arms looked swollen and sun blistered, leaving Peter honestly glad his semi-conscious state would spare him some of the discomfort he was likely about to cause.

With all the gentleness his broken body would allow, Peter slipped both arms under his mentor and quickly placed him down ready for transport. His arm had protested every second of being out of the sling so he was grateful when he could stabilise it again. With his arm tested, he figured he'd try and wiggle the toes from his injured leg too. The pain that shot from the ankle to his femur had him halting any further movement meaning he'd continue with the improvised cast and ultimately hope for the best.

When it didn’t feel like it was literally being fried with every step, Peter’s mind tried to reminisce and wonder. He thought about what May might be doing at that very moment. With no real indication on the time, she could still be part way through her dayshift or arriving home and deciding what would be for dinner. His imagination ran so vividly that for just a split second it seemed to project her in front of him. High waisted jeans matched a denim jacket, a bright yellow cami bringing some much needed colour to the washed, light blue. Not that May needed any bright colours. Her radiant smile could light up a room any day. As her image vanished, he thought he could see Ned and MJ. In fact, he was sure he could even hear them. They sat in the dining hall together at school, a gap between them that was clearly meant for Peter. He missed his friends so much in that split second. The excitement and nerdiness that Ned brought to the table worked chaotically yet perfectly with MJ’s intelligence and sass. It looked like they peered at him for just a second, before fading into a heatwave. He raised a hand out to their image, a guttural sound escaping his dehydrated throat. He grasped at his neck, the prior sound feeling like he'd swallowed sandpaper. He couldn’t afford to stop again. Not that he remembered why. There was just a nag in his mind telling him that he needed to keep going, so he did.

The sun had set when Peter’s body finally gave up. There had been moments of delirium that at this stage he still couldn’t quite comprehend. He wasn't sure if he'd remained on track, or just walked in circles. Some of his memories were blank and, in all honesty, the killer headache he had meant he didn’t even want to retrace them. 

At some point, he’d managed to create a covering with the parachute and some of the scrap poles Tony had brought along to help with walking. Once sheltered for the night, he discovered some energy bars that had been salvaged. He'd snacked on half of one, the other half already eaten giving him a slither of hope that Tony had taken care of himself as best as he could considering their circumstances. Peter continued offering sips of water to Tony, his mentor too incoherent to be able to chew anything. The teen then tugged his mask off completely, followed by the removal of Tony’s head covering. He wrapped the shirt and placed it under his mentor’s head for comfort. 

Despite its current warmth, Peter could feel the temperature slowly dropping around them. He'd watched enough shows to know that if hyperthermia hadn't killed you off during the day then hypothermia would most certainly come for you once the night hit in the desert. 

With more force than he'd intended, Peter tucked himself between his mentor's side and the sledge. He imagined the action of using his head to lift Tony’s arm resembled that of a guinea pig when it bucked up from unwanted attention. His shoulder and some of his chest followed. The touch should have been comforting, but the eerie way the older man’s arm just partially lingered rather than embracing him left Peter feeling like he was almost intruding. Too debilitated to move anymore, Peter drifted off to sleep to the sound of his mentor’s heartbeat against his ear.

"Hey, sleepyhead," a soft, feminine voice whispered, their longer fingers grazing up and down his cheek tenderly. He hummed back in response, the touch leaving him comforted. "There’s my boy."

Peter half smiled in his sleepy state, moving his face so he could nudge into her touch further. 

"May?" the teen eventually asked as he slowly opened his eyes. She was still a blurred silhouette to him, leaving his side for just a moment to get a cup filled with water and straw. She was back at his side and cupping his cheek before he’d fully recognised her movement.

"Before you do that thing where you recall what happened and pop a bunch of stitches shooting up from the bed, I’m going to quickly say now that Tony is absolutely fine and so are you."

That had his eyes snapping open fully, his mouth opening to speak but his confused mind not producing a single word. May took the opportunity to press the straw to his lip allowing him a few sips.

"That completely routine mission you two went on turned out to be anything but. It had been a setup and you were ambushed whilst in the quinjet. There was absolutely nothing either of you could’ve done to prevent it. It took Rhodey a little longer than expected to track you both down, but it seemed like you’d looked after each other as best as you could. And, just to reiterate again: you’re both going to be okay. So far scans and tests have all come back clear."

"I didn’t realise my Parker luck sometimes had a good side," Peter offered with a scratchy chuckle. 

"Silver lining," May proposed as she brought the straw and cup back to his lips. "You have some messages by the way. Not that I would usually pry, but considering what was going on I spoke with MJ and Ned. MJ said, and I quote, _try getting bit by a radioactive solpugid next time._ And Ned-"

Peter spluttered into his drink, spitting out the small amount he’d managed and instantly started coughing.

"Wait. WAIT. May… MJ didn’t know that I’m Spider-Man!" he exclaimed, his voice up an octave. He could feel his cheeks and ears flushing, the monitors beginning to pick up on the elevated heart rate.

"Easy, honey. Easy," May soothed as she helped him to sit up further so she could rub his back. "She said she was already sixty-seven percent sure you were Spider-Man and then Ned kinda … exploded in excitement like he does. And it seemed he really needed to get it out of his system that he was your guy in the chair and that she didn’t need to be jealous or anything. Anyway, your secret is safe with her. She definitely won't be telling anyone."

All Peter could manage was a nervous laugh, trying to imagine the conversation between the three of them.

"She might dig the new tan," May jested as she wiggled her brows and barely suppressed a grin.

"Maaayyy," Peter protested as he drew out her name longer than needed to emphasise his annoyance.

"She seemed like my kinda gal," May surmised with a shrug.

"Please… May," Peter whined, dragging the sheets over his head in an attempt to hide his cheeks that felt like they were somehow reddening more.

"Alright, alright," she said in bemused defeat. She gently took hold of the sheet and pulled it back down to see his sheepish half smile. "You want to take a little walk next door and see Tony?"

"Yes please," Peter accepted, grateful at the change of subject. 

"Just a heads up, in case you hadn't felt them, you've got braces for stabilisation on this leg as well as the wrist." She pointed to each limb as she named them. "Stark seemed to do a pretty good job out there despite the odds."

"Is… the rest all good?" Peter asked warily. He'd recalled her mentioning tests and scans being back okay _so far_ but anxiety always had a way at chipping away the prospect of smooth recoveries. 

"You seemed to have done a lot of healing yourself. From what we've gathered you sustained the bigger injuries securing Tony into the quinjet so he could suit up. Once suited up, the tables turned and then he did what he could to break the fall for you. You did have a lot of bruising which is clearing. I do imagine it'll be incredibly achy until it's gone though. Tony was briefly awake this morning and mentioned your wrist had been dislocated. It had already been stabilised as an x-ray found it to be broken but healing. You had fractures in the foot, ankle, and tibia, again already well into healing themselves. Cho just wants to provide that extra support ‘til you're completely in the clear."

"And Tony?" Peter asked bashfully, knowing she had already said he was okay.

"He was pretty bruised and burnt. They suspect a concussion too," she answered honestly. "When you were found… it was… critical. You both had cooling treatments to get your body temperatures back down. Your enhancements had us on our toes for that part in particular. They'll do regular scans to keep an eye out for any organ damage from the heatstroke." 

"Sorry,” he mumbled as the idea of long term problems lingered in his mind. This was the last thing May needed to be dealing with; she had already put up with so much.

"Don't be sorry, baby." She lent forward, sensing the guilt that was washing over him. She wrapped her arms around him softly, fingers gliding through his curls. He reciprocated the hug, his cheek resting on her shoulder and arms wrapped lightly around her back. Her touch always had a way of alleviating all of his concerns and worries in life, losing himself in her loving, calm embrace. When he inhaled deeply, she pulled away ever so slightly, one hand resting on his good shoulder and the other lingering by the bicep of the injured arm.

"Now, let’s go and check in on Tony, I’m sure Pepper would appreciate the break."

Peter didn’t need to be told twice, restless legs already desperate to clamber out of the bed and be free once again.

"Hey May?" Peter asked before she could take any further steps to the small storage drawer that had his slippers in. "If we ever go on vacation can we just… skip the whole sandy beach scene? I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime."

"I see that humour of yours is fully recovered already," she pointed out with a roll of her eyes. "You won’t be surprised to hear Tony’s also seems to be very much intact."

"What can I say? No matter where I crash land, my humour will never _desert_ me."


End file.
